


A Cracked Mask

by novasilvertongue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Civil War Team Iron Man, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Dark Steve Rogers, Gags, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kneeling, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Semi-Public Sex, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:17:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novasilvertongue/pseuds/novasilvertongue
Summary: He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it was a good idea to follow the man who he hasn’t seen since almost being killed by him? They’re in a dark hallway, too far for anyone at the gala to hear him, and Rogers has an odd glint in his eye. His nearest suit is at least half an hour away. He curses himself again. Why, why, why?Note: Tony doesn’t have the arc reactor or nanites in this fic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen so many post civil war fics that feature BAMF Tony, and love those, but here's some Tony whump and evil Steve.

The fucker is kissing him! Tony tries pushing back against his broad chest to get away but Rogers doesn’t even budge an inch. Rogers who left him in Syberia to nearly freeze to death. Rogers who never believed him when he said Ultron was sentient before it brought itself online. Rogers who says him father would be ashamed of him. Rogers who thinks he had an easy childhood as a privileged rich kid. Suddenly his hands are being pressed to the wall above his head and he continues his struggling with greater effort.

Rogers presses at his closed lips with his tongue, but Tony refuses to open. A sharp bite has him gasping and the tongue invades, plundering his mouth. The kiss seems to last forever, and Tony just can’t get away, the panic in his chest at being in such close proximity to his almost-murderer rising and rising. Finally the blond pulls away and opens his eyes, dark with lust.

“Get off me Rogers, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh so you’re going to play hard to get now ? Everyone knows you’re a slut.” Rogers smirks. “But alright, we can do this whichever way you’d like” Before he knows what’s happening, he’s being turned around and shoved into the wall. He refuses to let out the whimper of fear and pain that’s threatening to escape and tries to jerk himself away. Rogers pulls his arms backwards roughly and his wrists are being bound behind his back with something smooth; a tie. Then he’s turned back around and violently shoved down to the floor, his knees protesting at the harsh treatment. He scrambles backwards and tries to crawl away, but hits the wall behind him. Rogers pulls open his zipper and pushes the boxers down, and the musky scent of arousal invades his nose.

“Open.”

“N-No, I told you I don’t wan--” the soldier pries open his mouth and the cock is shoved into his mouth. He chokes for a moment trying to breathe, then bites down. Stark men are made of iron, he chants silently in his head. It’s gone with a shout of pain and he feels a sense of satisfaction until he’s backhanded so hard his vision flashes white. The back of his head throbs from where it collides against the wall as his shoulder hits the ground with a crack.

“Do it right,” growls Rogers, eyes flashing with a familiar anger and Tony’s stomach churns, “because this is the only prep you’re going to get,” He’s pulled back up to his knees, and the captain’s cock is shoved back into his mouth. Eyes wide with fear, and lips stretched around his cock he stares up at him, unmoving. Panic starts to set in. He doesn’t want this, he hasn’t had sex in any form since Pepper called off their wedding. He can’t do this, he can’t, he can’t-- Rogers snarls at him and slaps his cheek and he starts sucking frantically, swirling saliva around, and pressing his tongue to the underside of his dick. A moan of appreciation. He does that for a while, trying to lubricate him as much as possible, but with a grunt of frustration, his hair is pulled and the tip of the cock hits the back of his throat. Rogers moves forward a bit more, pressing him against the wall.

He gags, tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t pull backwards because he’s already flat against the wall, and he can’t move forward without being choked. He desperately tries to shake his head from side to side, but the grip in his hair tightens. He’s being roughly guided now and can taste precum. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and the panic rises again. Rogers is now fucking his throat and Tony can’t help the tears running down his face as he’s jostled and pulled around with his arms behind him. Finally, the blond finds his release and the engineer tries to pull away.

“Swallow.” Tony whimpers and shakes his head, the taste of cum salty in his mouth, but Rogers makes a threatening motion with his hand and slaps his cheek again. He swallows, and the captain drops him. He’s barely able to hold himself up anymore but starts to crawl away. Stark men are made of iron. Supposed to me made of iron. I have to get out of here.

“But Tony,” the purr behinds him makes him freeze, “We were just getting started.” He can hear the smirk as he’s roughly pulled back again.

“No no no no no. I- I can’t- I can’t do it I can’t-”

“Hush,” says the captain, “you talk too much.” His own tie is pulled roughly from his neck and Rogers shoves it inside his mouth as a makeshift gag. It’s too much, he can barely breathe or move, and it’s still not over. He finds it in himself to kick Rogers as hard as he can and starts squirming away, his voice muffled behind the gag as he tries to call for help. The kick doesn’t even make Rogers flinch, and he starts crying in earnest as his suit jacket and shirt are ripped off like tissue paper. He feels exposed, even without his arc reactor, he still doesn’t like people seeing his chest. He struggles as hard as he can, legs flying everywhere, but the blue eyed man still manages to rip off his pants, boxers going with it. Tony shivers, completely nude as the cool air touches his skin, desperately breathing through his nose.

“Shhh, it’ll be fine.” He leers and flips Tony over so he’s on his back, stands up, and presses him against the wall. He pulls his legs up over his shoulders and pushes in hard in one deep thrust. Tony screams in pain through the soaked gag and feels something inside him tear. He squeezes his eyes shut as Rogers starts moving right away, and the pain is terrible because saliva and blood are in no way close to lube. The captain bends forward and his teeth pierce the brunette’s neck in several spots before he’s satisfied. One of his arms is holding Tony up, and the other starts to slowly stroke his neglected cock. The engineer’s eyes fly wide open as his body starts to betray him. The flesh stiffens, and he shakes his head in denial as his tip starts leaking precum. Eventually, he cums with a grunt, his face reddening in shame as Rogers flashes him a sick grin. Stark men are made of iron. He wonders what Howard would say if he saw his son being brutally fucked by Captain America.

Tears are streaming down his face as the captain’s pace quickens and becomes more and more erratic He moans and pants above the genius relishing the tightness of his hole. Finally, Tony feels the cock in him throb one more time before the wet sticky liquid fills him. When he pulls out and drops him to the ground, the shorter man can feel the mixture of semen and blood trickling out of his ass and he sobs in humiliation. He lays there, too numb to try to struggle back onto his knees.

“There have been so many rumors about some of the benefits of the super soldier serum. Do you know which ones are true?” Rogers pauses as if Tony could possibly give him an answer.

“I barely have a refractory period.” He watches and smirks as Tony’s eyes widen in realization and fear, “But don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything this round.” He hauls the genius back up to his knees and boxes him back in between the wall and his legs. He starts to jerk himself off.

“Can you imagine if anyone saw us right now? You on your knees without a scrap of clothing watching me jerk myself off while fully dressed. You’re pathetic.” He slaps his cock against Tony’s cheek. “This is where you’ve always belonged you dirty whore, and I can do whatever I want to you,” he hisses as Tony whimpers. A knee is plunged into Tony’s stomach and he almost doubles over but the blond pulls him up by his hair. “Don’t you understand Tony?” twisted grin still in place, “nobody else will ever want you because you’re never enough for anyone. Even your father. You’re such a failure.” No, Stark men are made of iron, he will not break. Tony’s breathing becomes jerky and short and he tries to deny it but can’t get any comprehensive words out from behind the gag. Rogers’ hand speeds up and he holds the mechanic still while cumming all over his face.

Tony barely has time to catch his breath before he’s pushed down again. This time he’s on his knees, but without his arms to support him, his face is shoved into the ground. Rogers mounts him and pushes in a little more easily but it’s still agonizing. He sits there, buried to the hilt for a moment before he starts. His thrusts are so strong they push the brunette’s face into the floor every time, and rub his shoulders raw. His grip is bruising as he pushes in and pulls out, and all Tony can do is kneel there and take it. He scrapes his nails down engineer’s back and draws blood, while the genius futilely tries to twist away. His vision is going black around the edges and his breaths come out faster and faster. He can’t seem to get enough oxygen and black spots dance in his eyes as his insides feel like they’re being ripped apart. Everything is becoming blurry, and there’s pain everywhere.

Suddenly, his hole is empty and gaping. He hears two voices; Rogers, and another that’s vaguely familiar. A warm weight settles around him, it’s cloth. Clothing. Yes. Clothing is good. Unconsciously, he shivers and the piece of cloth draws closer around him, comforting him. The voices are raised in anger but he can’t make out the words as he starts slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he hears is a groan of pain from Rogers, and his blurry vision can distinctly make out the shape of a man kneeling in front of him. He surrenders to the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Casually bashes Rogers**

Dr. Stephen Strange walks into the gala wearing an expensive suit with the cloak masquerading as a scarf draped around his shoulders. Nothing seems to be amiss, but he feels a prickling sense of unease under his skin. He starts making rounds, talking to a few important people, until he reaches the far side of the room. As he passes one of the hallways, the cloak suddenly tugs him towards it. It’s subtle, but he still feels it. He turns, wondering what it could be, and the cloak gives him a stronger jerk. He trusts the cloak, he does, and if something is important enough that the cloak wants him to see it, then well…

He disappears down the dark hallway and follows the pull of the cloak with silent steps. He begins to hear noises, a moan, a muffled yell, the slap of flesh on flesh, and stops. The cloak continues tugging him forward but he resists.

“Whoever that is, they won’t appreciate me barging in on them,” he whisper hisses to it, “they’re probably in a secluded corner like this because they want privacy, now stop tugging me dammit!” It doesn’t stop, nearly vibrating with what seems to be anxiousness, and yanks at his neck again. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll show you, it’s nothing.” He walks forward again, frowning, and stops dead wondering if the scene in front of him is real. It’s Rogers and Tony. Rogers back and side are towards him, and he’s bent over Tony, fucking him brutally. He can see Tony’s profile though. There’s a tie shoved in his mouth, and his eyes are shut tight. Muffled sobs are forcing his way out, and his face is covered in tears and semen. Stephen feels sick.

When he had looked into those fourteen million six hundred and five futures, he hadn’t been able to go through each one clearly. It had mostly been flashes of this event and that, but he’d gathered that he needed Tony alive, in order to eventually defeat Thanos. It was only afterwards, when he’d had time to sift through his memories, when he realizes there had been a surprising amount of the genius in them, and that was when Stark became Tony. 

He’d seen Tony telling him the real story of what had happened in the Siberian bunker, not the one which he’d given to the media. He told him that he had held back during the fight, not hitting any vital parts with his lasers or unibeams still caring too much about Rogers, but the two supersoldiers hadn’t showed any kind of restraint. The emergency surgery he'd had on his chest and ribs afterward could attest to that. He told him about the events of Afghanistan and Yinsen and how he could barely stand getting water on his face. He told him about Obie, who he’d always trusted and was always more fatherly than Howard even was, betraying him. He’d seen Tony admitting that Howard had been a terrible parent, but he’d still craved his affection and acceptance even when he missed holidays and birthdays searching for Captain America. He told him about “Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, not recommended.” He revealed that he was actually just a consultant and had never felt like a part of the team. He repaired and created new equipment for them free of charge and fixed any problems they threw at him and paid for everything they bought by giving them credit cards and built them a place to live and he had never even gotten even a word of thanks or acknowledgement. 

He told the him about how Rogers and Romanoff had released all the SHIELDRA files onto the internet and he’d had several sleepless nights where he was working himself to the bone setting up safe houses all over the world for the revealed, innocent SHIELD agents. They never even called. He told him about how nobody believed him when he said Ultron had been sentient before and that Maximoff had showed him a vision which led him to decrypt the mind stone. He recalled the speech the captain gave when he said, “sometimes my teammates don’t tell me things,” then ripped a log apart with his bare hands as if threatening him. The bitterness and sour taste it left in his mouth as Siberia played out. He admitted that hearing Vision speak was a painful reminder of JARVIS. He told him about Bruce, who had fallen asleep when he tried to talk to him about the Mandarin and how he’d run away after Ultron leaving him alone to deal with the fallout. Thor had choked him, then disappeared as well. Maximoff had been brought under Rogers’ wing, and nobody was allowed to say anything negative about her. Romanoff and her betrayals. Pepper calling off the wedding. Rhodey and the fall. The letter. The flip phone. He poured his heart and soul out to Stephen, his head pillowed on his chest as the sorcerer ran his shaking hands through the silky chocolate curls. 

He saw the two of them under the stars as Tony kissed his fingers and he kissed the scars on his chest from the arc reactor. He saw them lazily making love in the morning. He saw them flying together, the engineer’s arms around him and laughing joyfully as the cloak defied gravity. He recognized that Tony was fiercely loyal to those he called his own. He learned that Tony usually took his coffee black, but he enjoyed sugar in large amounts. He met DUM-E and Friday and marveled at them. He spent more time with Peter and noticed that Tony was afraid of failing as a father figure to the young boy even though he was doing great. He even had a motto, “just do the opposite of what Howard would do.” He noticed all his little quirks and learned his smiles. There was the media smile, reserved for the sharks, the self deprecating one that he used entirely too often, the hopeful shy one as if asking, “did I do ok?” and the ones Stephen loved the most, the rare true smiles. Where his eyes would soften around the edges and years seemed to melt away as his lips curved softly upwards. He discovered everything about the man and wondered how anyone could ever say he had such a large ego when he blamed himself for everything.

He snaps back into the present and his vision flashes red. He’s pulling Rogers off with a strength he didn’t even know he possessed, and the cloak flies away and wraps itself around Tony, preserving his modesty and pulling him backwards to safety. He’s shaking hard and shivering and his eyes are open wide and terrified, darting around wildly as if not actually seeing anything in front of him. Stephen turns back to the threat. Rogers pushes himself up and snarls at him. 

“Stay back, this is none of your business.”

“Really, well considering this is rape, I would consider it my business.” He slowly edges to the side, planting himself more firmly between Tony and the soldier.

“Look Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I’m pretty sure you know who I am. Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to raise your hands and I’m going to let you walk past me to go back to the gala, and pretend you never saw anything, or there will be consequences.” He cracks his knuckles threateningly, and even without his pants fully on he looks dangerous. So in the dim light of the hallway and dressed in a suit, apparently Rogers doesn’t recognize him. He could use that to his advantage, so he pretends to hesitate. Rogers leers at him, trying to intimidate him and he slowly raises his hands above his head and steps away from Tony.

“That’s it, just walk away.” He waits until he’s right next to Rogers before he summons fiery burning whips and wraps them around Rogers before flinging him back to the ground. A smug sense of satisfaction. Rogers struggles, but Stephen preoccupies himself with checking on Tony. The sorcerer kneels down and sees that the shivering has subsided a little. The cloak has molded itself around him like a second skin, and as he watches, his eyes slip shut as he determines there to be no threat around him. He goes to check his pulse, but suddenly his arm is wrenched backwards in a bruising grip and the world is spinning. His face meets the floor and he gulps in a few breaths before staggering back to his feet, cursing himself. Rogers rushes him while he’s still winded so he throws up a mandala. The captain pivots to the side as he hits it and he charges again. Stephen summons a sword as he trades blows with the supersoldier. He changes to a whip, redirecting his punches and kicks and getting in a good number of hits. It’s easier than he thought it would be. Rogers is strong but relies on his superior strength and stamina to win fights instead of actually looking for a pattern and working around it. Rarely does he fight with someone on his own skill level and that has made him sloppy. Stephen defeats him, and if he prioritizes hurting Rogers over winning, well, nobody has to know that. It may not be very efficient, but he does it because he’s hurt Tony. Bright, witty Tony, who’s had his heart trampled over by the people he loved and the rest of the world too many times already. 

Rogers is lying in a heap of glowing ropes on the floor struggling futilely and he offhandedly wonders what he should do with him. He doubts Tony would like it if the media got ahold of it, a trial or jail time would definitely be noticed- but he can’t just let him get off with just a slap on the wrist. He supposes Tony should be the one to decide even if he’ll choose something way less than the sick bastard deserves. He turns, pulls the tie out Tony’s mouth and gently unties him, notices the dark red welts that have already started to form on his wrists. He tries to clinically accesses each injury, thanking his training as a doctor for not letting him get too squeamish, but this is Tony, and he can’t help the nausea curling in his stomach and the taste of bile in the back of his throat. He summons a portal, picks up the unconscious man, and steps through, the ropes dissolving in angry golden sparks around Rogers.

“It’s Doctor by the way, not Mister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally supposed to only be a few chapters, but I may decide to add more about the consequences of cap's actions who faces the wrath of the Sorcerer Supreme. (Spoiler Alert, he's a cinnamon roll around Tony.) Depends, I'm a lazy person lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the Kudos and everything! I really didn't expect such an amazing reaction from you all, considering this is like the first fanfic I've ever written lol

Tony awakens to someone shaking him. He scrambles backwards bracing himself for a blow, his breathing speeding up. Someone say, “Rogers” and a whine of fear escapes. He curls in on himself, raising his hands in a weak attempt to protect himself. There’s a curse, and the anger in the speaker’s tone makes his breathing become even harsher as he struggles to get in enough air. Then-

“Sorry Tony, sorry, focus on my voice, can you do that for me? Nobody is going to hurt you.” The rumbling baritone that is so unlike Rogers breaks through the fog of panic. He starts paying a bit more attention to his surroundings, and notices that wherever he is, it’s not that dark hallway. He tries to listen to the voice.

“That’s good Tony, breathe with me.” His hand is placed on a chest, and it’s the leanness of the muscle instead of the bulky beefiness Rogers possesses that stops him from freaking out again. He starts breathing a bit more calmly, attempting to match his breaths with the heartbeat underneath his fingertips. 

“You’re doing good Tony, now I’m going to pull you a bit closer so you’re more comfortable is that alright?” He manages a nod of assent, his breaths still too shallow to force out any words. He’s shifted and maneuvered so that he’s sitting sideways, half on and half off the man’s lap, his head resting against his chest. Tony listens to the strong steady thud of his heartbeat and is finally able to start breathing more normally. 

He opens his eyes and is met with a damp white dress shirt and when did he start crying? His face is wet, the tears still streaming silently down his face and oh god this is embarrassing. 

“Tony, hey, Tony, breathe.” He looks up into the face of Stephen Strange, they’re at the New York Sanctum, and how…? It all comes rushing back to him. Strange had seen him being raped by Rogers. And now he was crying about it. On his shirt. Sitting in his lap. Naked except for the cloak. Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak. Stark men are made or iron. Damnit, get a grip on yourself. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry Strange, I should go.” Jeez, his voice sounds wrecked, and it wavers a lot more than he’d like to admit.

“Tony,” he says, impossibly soft, as if talking to a spooked animal. Whatever is next is lost to the disbelief rushing through his head. He’s Tony “Fucking” Stark™. He doesn’t need to be coddled. He’s a playboy, he’s taken it up the ass so many times before, why should this be any different? Because this was rape, a traitorous part of his mind whispers. Because it was done by your childhood idol, the one you got to meet and trusted with your life. Because, because, because. He interupts whatever Strange is saying. 

“I really should go Strange, I’m sorry you had to see that, and I would appreciate you pretending it never happened and that you never saw that, but if you won’t I’ll pay you however much you want or build you something, or do anything, just please please please,-” He’s babbling, and forcefully tells himself to stop and pull himself together. He tries to stand up, but the movement sends a sharp stab of pure agony lancing through him, bringing fresh tears to his eyes. He bites his lip, trying to keep in the whimper of pain, but it escapes anyways. 

“How about a shower first, and then you can borrow some of my clothes. And Tony, I would never tell anyone if you didn’t want me to.” He lets out a soft breath of relief and contemplates the idea. On one hand, a shower and a fresh set of clothes sounds really good. On the other, Strange doesn’t need to see him break down again, and he already owes the man enough after rescuing him.

“I’ll be offended he you refuse.” he says teasingly. Tony gives him a watery smile.

“Well when you put it that way, how could I?” He’s proud that his voice is steady.

He manages to stand, with a lot of leaning on the taller man. It’s humiliating and painful, but successful. His first few steps are those of a newborn deer, but by the time they reach the bathroom door, he’s walking almost completely unsupported. He’s still aching and in a lot of discomfort, but he covers it up like he’s always done. Nobody ever did care after all, he thinks bitterly. Except for Strange. For some reason, the thought brings a flush of heat to his cheeks.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Stephen had been so angry when Tony had backed away from him in fear after he had told him that Rogers was gone. He swore to himself that even if Tony decided not to take action, he’d take his revenge himself. Somehow. An angry curse slips out. He sees the engineer’s reaction and forcefully calms himself. He talks Tony through his panic attack like he’d seen his future self do many times before, and resists the urge to place a kiss on the sweaty curls. He’d convinced Tony to take a shower, carefully avoiding all mentions of a bath, too familiar with his PTSD, helped him get there, and laid out a white t shirt and a grey pair of sweatpants for him. That had been an hour ago.

Now he’s trying to meditate. His thoughts drift off to some of the other futures. Why had he never seen this before? With so many memories, it was difficult to remember, but he would have recognized something like this, especially since most memories happen more times than once in different futures. The fact that he had never seen this meant the possibility must have been incredibly low. Tony was so unlucky to have to live through this one with a dark, twisted, captain america. 

Stephen is jittery with tension and wondering what’s taking Tony so long. Is he ok? Does he just want privacy? Maybe he’s fallen asleep? He should probably go check. 

He’s glad he’s decided to. Tony is sitting on the shower floor shivering under a stream water. It looks like he hasn’t even tried to wash himself as some of the evidence of the rape is still there, the water not strong enough to wash it away. The engineer’s knees are pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his head between them. He recognizes that position all too well. He’d had a lot of experience with it when he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that he would never use his hands properly again. It’s a position of pure hopelessness. His heart goes out to the other man. He walks into the stream and notices that the water is definitely too cold to be any good. Crouching down to Tony’s level, he gently tips his chin up with a finger.

“Hey,” Tony stares up at him, looking so confused, his eyes, red rimmed and weary, appearing thousand of years old, “do you want some help?”

\---------------------------------------------------------

He might be drowning in Strange’s eyes, thinks Tony. The warm gray invites him to dive in. There’s a spark of wit and cunning, and a fire in there that burns so very bright. They’re so different from Rogers’. Rogers who had a glacial stare that was filled with self righteousness and poorly disguised disgust whenever he glanced at Tony and didn’t see enough of Howard. The iciess of that glare would always freeze him, and make him try not to stumble over his words as he attempted to live up to the captain’s expectations of who he was “supposed” to be. 

He realizes Strange is asking him if he wants help. By now he’s too numb to feel the cold or the water beating his back, so he nods dazedly. He’s helped up until he’s leaning on the taller man’s shoulder. Strange reaching out a hand and grabs a washcloth, then turns the water temperature up to something a lot more comfortable. As the water warms, he lets out a sigh of relief. 

Strange then starts wiping him down softly. Carefully avoiding the scrapes down his back, and skimming even more softly over the worst of the bruises. He cleans his nether regions calmly and clinically. When he’s finished, they both stand there for a moment before Tony lets go of his iron control, and cries for real. No more silent tears and trying to hide. Instead, great, heaving sobs that wrack through his body. Strange stands there, solid and warm, offering his comfort and understanding, and as Tony leans his forehead against the soaking dress shirt, he holds him with shaking hands. Three times in one day, thinks Tony bitterly, must be some kind of fucking record. Neither of them speak as the sobs peter off into sniffles and finally stop altogether. 

He’s numb in a different way now as Strange wraps a towel around him and mumbles something about going to change. He’s just finished pulling on the t shirt when the sorcerer gets back and leans casually against the doorframe, dressed in a similar outfit, albeit with black sweatpants. The genius would have made a joke about peeping toms if he weren’t so tired but instead looks up.

“Thanks for all of this Strange, I really owe you one.”

“You really don’t owe me anything Tony, but you look tired, maybe you should stay the night?” 

He hesitates.

“We have a guest room down the hall.” This time he hesitates for a completely different reason, not wanting to be alone because he doesn’t quite feel safe yet.

Strange must see it because he continues. “Or you could share with me, my hands get really cold easily so you’d actually be doing me a favor.” At that moment, Tony sees a bit of himself in the other man. The “I’m doing you a favor but I’ll make it sound like you’re doing me a favor because if I don’t you’ll blame it on my ego.” All those times when he made the Exvengers equipment and said things like, “Hey can you test this out please, thanks,” and “Oh you might as well keep it for me, I’d probably lose it if I took it back.” Or all those times when Rogers was feeling restless and needed to burn some energy off so he’d put on the suit and let himself get knocked around a bit after asking him for some time please and thank you for sparring with me I really appreciate it. He recognizes himself, and that’s why he decides to stay but not before saying,

“You’d be doing me a bigger favor Strange,” then he smirks. It’s a pale imitation of his usual Tony ‘Fucking” Stark grin, but it’s still there.

“And just a warning, I’m a huge cuddle monster.”

They roll into bed, and he snuggles up against the taller man. He hears a chuckle, rich and affectionate above him as his chest rumbles. One hand is thrown over the other man and the other reaches up to pat his face. 

“Hush,” he mumbles sleepily. Another chuckle. He feels a pair of lips press against his hand, and before he slips into sleep, he hears,

“Call, me Stephen. Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i accept prompts btw my tumblr is novasilvertongue.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony has incredibly low self esteem and blames himself for everything and Stephen (and I) will do anything to change that and make him understand that he deserves love and cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework is evil and although I may not be able to update as frequently, it's almost over

It’s almost a familiar sight by now, the portal and the Chitauri streaming through while he sits on the other side watching helplessly as a defenseless earth is destroyed. But the piles of corpses has grown. There’s more than just the Avengers, there’s Peter and Rhodey and Pepper and Yinsen and Strange and Wong and his mother and so many faces he’d seen on the news after the first snap, and even more faces of Sokovians he’d spent hours staring at, wondering how it had all gone wrong, and there are the faces of the SHIELD agents that he couldn’t get to in time, and faces of all the people he killed when he was still manufacturing weapons, and everywhere he looks there are corpses. He’s knee deep in blood and gore and filth, and yet he can’t stop himself as he wades through them and kneels next to Captain America, still in his uniform, the shield lying innocently next to him, unbroken. He reaches out to the super soldier’s neck, checking his pulse, and it’s cold and dead, and no matter how many times it happens, the iron grip on his wrist will never cease to make the silent scream rise in his throat. 

“You could have saved us.” He tries to pull away, but the grip strengthens and he can feel the bones grind. Bile rises in the back of his throat.

“Why didn’t you do better?” Rogers opens his eyes, grabs the shield, and throws it behind him. Suddenly, he’s wearing his armor, and it’s Siberia all over again. The two supersoldiers team up against him, throwing the shield between them and bashing at the armor. He’s forced against the wall, and Barnes starts trying to rip the arc reactor out of his chest. His face wavers and turns into Obie’s for a moment, and then his heart is pulled from his chest, dripping blood everywhere. Obie turns into Rogers, and Rogers squeezes his heart until it bursts, blood coating his face. He’s forced back to the ground, and Rogers turns into Barnes who bashes the side of his skull in. He blinks and it’s Rogers again, the shield raised high over his head, and it as it comes down, he can feel his bloody chest and ribs cave in as a lung is punctured. Rogers starts walking away with Barnes, and he makes a last weak jab. 

“That shield doesn’t belong to you! You don’t deserve it! My father made that shield!” Rogers turns around and his face morphs into Howard’s.

“Don’t you understand Tony? I never wanted a son, you were a mistake, but your mother,” he sneers, “wouldn’t let me get rid of you. All you did was slow down my search for Captain America. Why can’t you be more like him? He was always more important to me than you ever were.” 

The snow of Siberia fades away, and now he’s choking on blood and the stench of death, lying on a pile of corpses, only they aren’t corpses anymore. They all glare at him accusingly, and there are hands everywhere, pulling him downwards. His face is pressed into the blood and he can’t breathe, can only struggle, the sand of the cave in Afghanistan under his knees as blood splashes wherever he moves.

“You’re a liability to the team, big man in a suit of armor, take that off and what are you?” His head is forced back into the blood and he coughs and splutters as it fills his mouth, trying desperately to buck off all the hands that are holding him down. They pull him up and Romanoff is standing in front of him.

“Iron man yes, Tony Stark, not recommended.” She reaches out a hand as if to help him, but instead forces him back under. Barton is next, twirling a customized arrow threateningly between his finger tips.

“You better watch your back with this guy, there’s a chance he’s gonna break it.” He’s forced back under, and then there’s Bruce, no sign of the wry humor he’d seen in him when they first met.

“I’m not that kind of doctor Tony, and I really don’t care about your problems. Go bother someone else.” Under again, and this time he’s pulled up by the throat by Thor. He’s lifts him off the floor, and Thor’s face turns into Barnes’, and he can hear his mother’s terrified breaths and realizes they’re coming from him. His grip is a vise around his throat, and he chokes out a, “No, please.” The assassin morphs into Rogers.

“Why can’t you understand Tony? Nobody wants you.” He’s thrown through the portal with the rest of the Chitauri, and he’s now plummeting towards earth. He passes one of the circular ships, and slows just enough to see Peter falling and gasping for air. He reaches out a hand to grab him and snags onto a marble cold arm. He’s no longer breathing. The wind rips him away from Peter, and as he falls through the sky he was see the War Machine armor flying over to catch him, but at the last moment Rhodey turns and flies away.

Impact. All the air whooshes out of his lungs, and everything hurts so much. And then his arms are being pulled behind his back and they’re being tied up. The tie is back in his mouth. He’s somehow lost his clothing, and he’s being manhandled around roughly. Then the same exquisite pain stabs into him again, tearing in and out of him, the harsh friction making him bleed. He’s still covered in blood from earlier, and cannot even tell whose blood it is that drips down the back of his legs. He struggles hard and tried to jerk away, but he’s powerless. From behind him, Rogers puts both hands onto his hips in a bruising grip and thrusts even harder. His tied arms are useless behind his back, and he’s kicking anything he can reach, but he’s still not gaining any ground. He feels another pair of hands on his, and he panics even more, flailing around. He hears a grunt of pain, and then a voice calls his name. It anchors him, and gradually, he feels the pain begin to subside. He latches onto the voice as it talks to him soothingly, and can feel bed sheets tangled up around him. He’s sweaty and there are tear streaks on his face. He opens his eyes.

Stephen Strange. Stephen means safe. Safe is good. Stephen will protect him. His breathing calms gradually, and as he calms down, he mentally kicks himself. Stark men are made of iron, you don’t need anyone to protect you, you’re Tony “Fucking” Stark. 

“How long was I asleep?” he manages to croak out.

“About 4 hours.” Stephen is staring at him now, and he really should leave. He averts his eyes.

“You mind if I take another shower?”

“Feel free to, I’ll be downstairs.” Tony walks off into the bathroom and strips off the borrowed clothes, noticing they’re all sweaty. Eh, they’ll probably be fine by the time he’s done. He turns on the water and steps into it, letting the heat wash away the tension in his muscles and thinks. This will definitely leave nightmares, but he’s dealt with them before, this time will be no different. Just keep building things for SI, attending board meetings, protecting the planet, and don’t let anyone see you without your masks on. Everyone has to think Tony Stark is invincible, because if the media ever sees anything else, stocks will fall and the world will distrust the people protecting it. Last time he let himself be a little more human, the media started putting a lot more of the blame on him, and he believed it all. It had taken so long for him to realize that his team wasn’t perfect and needed rules as well. He needs to be able to see things from an outsider’s point of view, and he can’t let anything distract him from that. Hence the masks. He sighs. He’ll leave as soon as possible he decides. 

Shutting off the water, he grabs the towel hanging outside the stall and acknowledges the flesh clothes Stephen had laid out of him with a quirk of his lips. How thoughtful. He pulls them on and pads outside of the bathroom drying his hair. When he finishes, he walks down the stairs. 

Stephen is there, with two mugs of coffee and a bruise on one of his incredibly sharp cheekbones. He winces.

“Did I do that?”

“It’s not a big deal, I’ve had a lot worse,” a pause, then, “here.” One of the mugs is pushed towards him.

“For me?” A winning smirk. Neither of them comment on it’s weakness.

“Of course, sugar is over there.” He frowns. Howard had said Stark men drink their coffee black.

“I don’t take sugar.” Stephen rolls his eyes, and is that a trace of fondness he can see in there?

“Yes you do Tony.” He pushes the pot towards him, and Tony looks at him suspiciously for a moment before putting in two spoonfuls and stirring. He takes a sip and lets out a sound of contentment that he will forever deny is a purr. Another flash of fondness in Stephen’s eyes. What on earth does that mean? He finishes quickly.

“I really should leave now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Stephen hums noncommittally.

“I can open a portal to Stark Tower.”

“Maybe no portals?”

“Ah yes, of course, apologies. I’ll show you out then,” he murmurs quietly. He walks past Tony to the door and the shorter of the two follows. The door is open, and the real world, full of sounds and noises is out there. He turns back to look at Stephen, and the sorcerer is giving him these heart melting puppy dog eyes and he’d do anything with that look directed at him and--

“Stay? Let me help you Tony.” He can’t, he really really can’t afford to be weak right now.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” Tony hesitates. Somehow those eyes are dialled up another level.

“Please, Tony.” Maybe he can be a little selfish and let someone in this time. Maybe he can afford to be a little weak. Maybe he can start thinking a little more about his mental health. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this alone.

Tony turns back around and shuts the door. The noises of the outside are cut off.

“So would you rather watch Sherlock Holmes, the movies or the TV show more?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for such positive feedback and kudos :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, tooth rotting fluff and a bit of serious conversation, but still, FLUFF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surpriiiiiiise

“No but TV show Sherlock is way more attractive. Dark and mysterious. I also like the way the character is portrayed, he’s like a serious guy but super cynical and sarcastic at times.”

“Movie Sherlock is way cuter. And I like his humor more, it’s quite frankly adorable. You have to at least admit that Tony.” Tony pouts and throws a handful of popcorn at Stephen who doesn’t even blink.

“Well yeah, but I still like TV show Sherlock more.”

“Well, everyone is entitled to their opinion, doesn’t mean it’s correct though,” Stephen smirks and Tony throws more popcorn at him. 

The two of them have just finished watching both movies and season one, two, and three of Sherlock. It’s late evening, and they’re sprawled on the couch, leaning against each other. The cloak is laying on top of them, and Tony hasn’t felt this calm or relaxed in a while. They lapse into a peaceful silence and Tony finds himself slowly drifting off.

When he awakens, he realizes he hadn’t had any nightmares, and that he’s woken up feeling better than before which is honestly quite rare. Next to him, Stephen is also asleep, he can feel the taller man’s head on his. He nuzzles the sorcerers shoulder and drifts off back to sleep.

The second time he opens his eyes, he’s somehow slid down so his head is resting on Stephen’s chest. He can feel the rhythmic beat of his heart through the thin shirt. Stephen himself is already awake. In one hand, he holds a book, and his other is absently carding gently through Tony’s hair. Tony clears his throat and Stephen looks down at him and smiles this impossibly fond and soft smile.

“Morning Tony, sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah. Surprisingly so.”

“Want breakfast?”

“I’m horrible in the kitchen, can’t cook worth a damn.” Howard had said Stark men didn’t need to know how to cook.

“Great! We can see who’s worse, I bet I’ll get the prize for it though.” Wong finds them both half and hour later, covered from head to toe in flour, laughing hysterically. An exasperated sigh comes before the order to go shower while he orders. They stumble away still giggling like schoolgirls and Tony just feels so light and free. They each shower, Stephen borrowing Wong’s bathroom, and come back downstairs where there’s bacon and toast and eggs and other breakfast foods waiting for them in paper containers. They start setting the table, and Tony is standing on his tiptoes trying to reach one of the higher cabinets when Stephen comes up behind him and opens it for him. He places his chin on the engineer’s head and calls out.

“Tony, where are you, I can’t see you.”

“Heyyyy,” he grumbles, shoving the taller man off, but secretly relishing the contact. He pokes him in the ribs in retaliation and finds out that apparently the stoic Sorcerer Supreme is very ticklish. Unfortunately, so is he, and he remembers that too late. They’re both poking at exposed ribs and laughing like maniacs until one of the empty plates is knocked over. They both freeze, and Stephen conjures a glowing container, sweeps the shards into it, and vanishes it. They take one look at each other and burst out into laughter again. It feels so good to laugh freely thinks Tony. Breakfast almost turns into a food fight when Stephen flicks a piece of bacon at Tony, but he catches it in his mouth and makes an exaggerated show of smacking his lips. The meal is filled with light conversation and witty banter with nothing that makes Tony uncomfortable. It really is enjoyable, and the rest of the morning goes by in a domestic bliss that makes Tony wish he could freeze himself in this moment forever. All sunny smiles and no stress, just two men enjoying the other’s company. But of course all good things come to an end, especially when you’re Tony Stark, and now Stephen wanted to “talk”. They go back to the sofa, and he’s nervous. It’ll most definitely be a conversation about Rogers, and he can’t help but try to diffuse the situation with a bit humor.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he dramatically clutches his heart and continues in a horribly fake british accent, “oh the horror.” He mock faints. It has the effect he’d hoped for, and Stephen lets out a chuckle. 

“I would never Tony. But in all seriousness,” he takes a breath, “do you want to do anything about Rogers?” Tony sighs. He had given it some thought yesterday, but hadn’t really come to a conclusion yet.

“I honestly don’t know. I still care about him. He’s the great Captain America, how could I not?” he can’t help but let some of the bitterness seep into his tone, “it still matters what he thinks about me, and I hate that. I just wish he wouldn’t have any effect on me. And even if I wanted to do something about it, what could I possibly do? People might not even believe me. The paragon of virtue raping a playboy billionaire? Everyone would be skeptical.” He’s on a roll now, and he thinks that if he stops, he might never continue, so he tells himself he’ll finish, he has to. Lay out all the ugly truths, and let Stephen see what he’s dealing with, and whether he wants to continue.

“Not to mention we need him in the fight against Thanos. We need every last resource we can get, and I can stomach working with him for the good of the universe. It’ll be fine, it’s always fine. I’ll pull through like I always do.” Stephen’s heart breaks a little at the speech. Tony always thinks the worst of himself. He’s always so selfless, and willing to do what’s for the best, even if it kills him inside. He tips his chin up gently with a shaking hand.

“I’ve already told you Tony, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to put everything before yourself. You’re important as well you know, and maybe you don’t want to put Rogers out of commision or lock him away for the rest of his life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take any action against him at all.”

“No Stephen, I’ve thought about it, I just want him to leave me alone. I’ll protect the world with him, but I want nothing to do with him.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? Really? You’re just going to agree with me like that?” Stephen silently fumes at all the people who had made Tony feel this way, like his opinion didn’t matter to them.

“Of course Tony, it’s your decision, just, can I pay Rogers a visit? Get it to stick in that tiny brain of his to leave you alone.” 

“Y-Yeah, of course, in fact, please do.”

“Then I shall, but I believe in the meantime, we have two more seasons of Sherlock to watch first.” The shorter man catches him by surprise by pulling him in for a fierce hug. He wraps his arms around him gently and pretends not to hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle. Stephen presses a kiss into the shorter man’s curls (finally, finally, finally) and Tony melts into him bonelessly. Then the cloak flies over and wraps itself around the two of them. They both grumble good naturally, and a few beats later, pull away.

“I believe we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's almost over, next chapter will be a BAMF protective Stephen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAMF Stephen yeEeeEEEet

Stephen Strange steps through the portal into the newest Avengers headquarters. He lingers at the door of the meeting room Rogers is in, and takes a moment to reach out with his magic and sense his surroundings as something feels off. It’s only Rogers and the witch, and he can sense tendrils of energy coming out from her. He closes his eyes, concentrates, and almost lets out a sound of disbelief. Her influence is everywhere, stray curls of a crimson-scarlet color seeping through the air like parasites. He looks deeper and notices that although her powers are horribly controlled, the red hasn’t latched onto anyone. Meaning everyone’s actions are their own. He sighs. His momentary flash of hope is gone. As a child, he had, of course read the Captain America comics, and he’d hoped that Rogers’ actions had at least been influenced. Well, the great Captain America isn’t as moral as it seems. As he’s about to open his eyes, he sees another wisp, very faint looking. It signifies recent magic use. He follows the thread and to his surprise, it leads to Tony. It’s too imperceptible to find it’s use, so he withdraws and opens his eyes. 

Opening the door with his magic, he steps inside the room. Rogers and Maximoff look up in surprise. He notices with a sense of glee that there are still bruises and burns on the captain from their previous encounter So, the super soldier serum isn’t quite perfect, he thinks smugly. There’s a flash of recognition from the super soldier, and his eyes widen even further.

“Wanda, get back, this man is dangerous and insane!” Stephen internally rolls his eyes.

“I’m just here to talk, Mr. Rogers, to both of you it seems.” He spares the witch a look. Maximoff still hasn’t moved, but then she looks at Rogers, and he nods to her as if in confirmation. The split second is all he requires to prepare himself as she lashes out at him. Her powers are strong, but she can barely control them. He brushes off the clumsy attacks easily, and binds her powers inside her. 

“What have you done?!” she screams, anger making her Sokovian accent thicker.

“I’ve turned you normal, how you should be. You can’t gain magic through operations, you have to work for it. And I think the real question is, what have YOU done? What did you do to Tony?”

“You monster!” This time, he really does roll his eyes. He sends a flood of power out towards her, and lets her feel just a fraction of his strength.

“Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. What. Did. You. Do. To. Tony?”

“Ask him!” she whisper-yells, pointing at Rogers, then proceeds to escape the room as fast as she can. He lets her go, already filing her away as unimportant in the current situation.

“What do you want Strange?” He’s already let himself indulge in one eye roll, but the irony is so strong he allows himself another. The man hides behind the witch, and as soon as she’s gone, he pretends to be tough. How pathetic. 

“I’ve told you, I’m just here to talk. Although after that particular display, I may feel the need to attack as well. That, we shall see. Let’s start shall we? What did the witch do to Tony?” The super soldier finally seems to understand that he isn’t getting out of this.

“I just had her place a calming spell on him.” His eye twitches, and it’s barely perceptible, but it’s there.

“Strike one,” he lashes out with a burning whip, slashing the table in two clean pieces easily, “I want a real answer, or you’ll be able to witness the full extent of my powers as I ruin your life completely and utterly.” Rogers stares at the smoldering edges of the table and gulps. Stephen may be enjoying himself a little more than what the situation calls for.

“Fine, it was more than a calming spell. I told her to place a spell on him that would make him more apathetic towards me and slow him down when he thought about me.” Stephen’s jaw twitches with barely contained fury, all traces of good humor gone. He speaks, low and deadly, deceptively calm.

“The only reason I haven’t found this spell yet is because I would never use magic on anyone without their consent and Tony is uncomfortable around magic thanks to your witch. Once I leave, you will get her to undo the spell, I don’t care how, but you will. I could easily do it myself, and I will if you fail, but there will be dire consequences if you do.” It has the effect he wants it to, and Rogers looks thoroughly frightened now, although he’s trying valiantly not to show it. Points for effort, he supposes.

“Let’s move on shall we? You will never mess with Tony Stark, ever again. Do you understand?” he waits until he get a short nod before continuing, “if you do, I will make sure you never get a moment of peace for the rest of your life. And it will be a very long, and horrible life indeed. I will submerge you in a living hell, and there will be no place in the universe you will be able to avoid me. I have the power to bring back all your demons, every memory you wish you’d never see again. I can defile and corrupt anything remotely pleasant to you and make you go through it again, and again, and again." With each "again", he slices at the table, parting it into more and more pieces. The smell of burnt wood lingers in the air.

"Do you understand?" He stalks up close to the other man, and manages to look down at his even though they're the same height. Another wordless nod is his reply. 

"I said, do you understand? I'd like verbal confirmation sometime in the next century Rogers." Rogers stares at him, and Stephen stares back with fire in his eyes, daring him to break eye contact. Rogers looks away.

"Ok! I get it! I understand! I won't mess with Tony."

"Very glad we've gotten that sorted out then, Mr. Rogers. I really have to be going now." he inserts a fake cheerful flippancy into his tone, and turns to start opening a portal.

"It's Captain, not Mister." He looks over his shoulder at the blonde.

"No, I don't think it is, if I remember correctly, that was all propaganda. Have a good day Mr. Rogers," then he steps through the portal.

"Wait! How do I get out of the room?" is the last thing he hears. He quirks up the side of his mouth in a smile so fast it could be a twitch of the cheek. The walls of this particular meeting room can't be broken as easily as the paper thin walls of the office building he'd demolished when he was fighting the Winter Soldier. A job well done indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just the epilogue now


	7. Epiogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, but enjoy!

They help save the world together, coordinating well with the Accords council. They’re on the same team, and Tony rarely sees Rogers and Maximoff and the others. He’s heard they aren’t sent out as much due to massive amounts of property damage, and civilians panicking when they see them.

Tony spends a lot of his time at the compound now. He brings his projects over to work on them, and part of the room is cluttered with machinery. He and Stephen are working on a way to combine technology and magic. He never calls it magic to Stephen though, always insisting it’s another form of science. The sorcerer enjoys the rants and finds them rather amusing. 

Peter is a large part of their lives as well. After school, he’ll sometimes stay and do his homework at the Sanctum. He helps Tony with some of his projects, and occasionally spars with Stephen. Once, he’d gotten permission to stay the night, and the three had watched several movies until Peter started nodding off. Tony had picked him up and settled him in the guest room, and as he was quietly leaving the room, he heard a murmured, “night dad.” Stephen had held him and reassured him that night as he panicked on what a horrible father figure he thought he would be. 

Tony has gotten past his fear of Stephen’s portals, the warm golden sparks a reminder of Stephen instead of the Chitauri. Whenever Tony needs something, Stephen will portal him to his workshop so he can grab it. Sometimes, he like to surprise Tony by opening portals directly behind him. The squeaks that Tony swears he never makes are adorable.

They cuddle on the couch. Sometimes there’s a movie playing, other times Tony’s just tapping away at a Starkpad with his head in Stephen’s lap. The cloak always enjoys being a part of this. They feed each other things small bits of food sometimes, doing it so absentmindedly that neither of them notice. But Wong does, and he always rolls his eyes at their toothaching sweetness.

They get dinner outside one night, and neither of them comment on how they’re both dressed too finely for a normal dinner. It gradually progresses into more and more times until it’s regular. One night they go outside, and Tony tells Stephen about everything, Howard, Obie, the team and Stephen, who’s already heard it many times before, still feels his heart break. 

They fly together as well, sometimes Tony uses the armor, but usually, he’ll wrap his arms around Stephen and the cloak will support them both. He feels free and safe, the taller man holding him securely as they soar through the air.

The first time they kiss is when Tony has finally found a way to integrate the sorcerers magic with his nanites and armor. They’re both tired, and haven’t showered in days, but Tony presses his lips to Stephen’s, and when they pull apart, the sorcerer looks at Tony with something akin to wonder in his eyes. 

Tony thinks he’s found happiness, they may not have progressed past the kissing stage, but he’s perfectly fine with that. He loves waking up in Stephen’s arms. He loves the little bumps of the nose Stephen will give him when he’s still half asleep. He loves seeing him bleary eyed and sipping coffee or bright eyed and explaining some magical principle. He loves their dates, and the lack of pressure from the taller man, and just every tiny considerate thing he does that nobody else had ever bothered to do. He’s fallen in love with the Stephen Strange, unaware that Stephen had fallen in love with him along time ago, on the planet Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much!


End file.
